Nonpareil
by wreckofherheart
Summary: [Minor Civil War Spoilers] 'You'll never lose me, Nat. I swear.' Maybe Captain America is too loyal, which makes him damaged. But his undying loyalty is all he has left.
**Warning** | Minor Civil War Spoilers.

* * *

 **author's note** : So, while drunk, I spontaneously asked as a joke if my friends and I should watch Civil War last night.

Let's just say I came out of that cinema room sober and a convert to the Avengers franchise...

Anyway, the one character which broke my heart the most was Natasha, especially during the scene after Peggy's funeral. Steve (as well as Tony!) goes through a lot during this film, and I wanted to depict that, with one of his closest friends beside him.

* * *

'I didn't want you to be alone.'

Pictures, pictures of beautiful faces, ignite in his ageing mind.

They say that the war was the world's most catastrophic endurance. People died. Many tortured. The vast majority murdered, while their widows wept in bitter vain. He has experienced the war, and _that_ was some war. The war is all he'll ever know; fighting for a sense of justice is the only thing he has been taught. War is war. Defeat is defeat.

And yet his heart lies with his enemy. The boy he grew up with is a soul he ought to detest, but he _can't_. Perhaps the world he knew isn't so black-and-white after all. And perhaps the war which is so romanticised in this plagued modern era was only the beginning. The war was his birth, and now? Now he has been thrust into a realm which demands blood on his hands, the blood of his dearest friend.

Now, he is expected to accept blame. He is expected to turn his back on what he was created to be and almost _vanish_.

Natasha is terrified.

When they embrace, Steve cuddles her so fiercely, he's afraid he might crush her lungs. Cease her breathing. Afraid she, too, will collapse into his arms and never wake up again. He wants to cry. He wants to weep before her, squeeze out his aching heart, and tell her––tell her how much _pain_ he is in. Because only children cry over their agony, cry over something they do not understand, cry over dead people.

Steve is young, seventeen again, and every time he thinks of those beautiful faces in his mind, he wants to collapse to his knees and rain a storm of anguish.

The boy wishes to be set free.

Each one of them are being pried apart, and Natasha is as puzzled as Steve is. Although she knows her place in this chaos, that does not mean she can ignore her feelings; it doesn't mean she has forgotten the very few who have stuck by her side. One of those few is Steve himself, and the two have transformed into reluctant opponents.

Steve swallows, holds his breath; this is all too familiar. He knows what that is like: holding somebody close, only for them to be taken from his fingertips, either made into a monster or have their wonderful memories _erased_ from within their skull.

What would Peggy do? Steve scrunches his eyes shut, digs his nails into Natasha's coat. What would Peggy do? Would she hold her ground, face Tony herself, and tell him he is wrong?That the world isn't about vengeance? How can a world flourish if it is ridden by madness? No, the only way out of this madness is with forgiveness.

Peggy would love. That is something Steve is certain of. She would love Tony for his broken heart, and she would love Bucky for his lack of control; the trauma he has experienced. She would point her finger, and then she would forgive, and then she would love.

'I lost my best friend.'

Natasha stirs in his arms, but he won't let go. She's thinking: thinking whether he is referring to Bucky, or to the former Director of _Shield_ , deep within her coffin. That is the moment in which he breaks a little. Only slightly. A few tears trickle down his cheeks, and he hides his pain by burying his face into the crook of Natasha's neck. Natasha doesn't move, doesn't say a word, but she doesn't walk away either.

Pictures, pictures of beautiful faces, ignite in his mind.

The pictures of Peggy, pictures of Howard, and then the pictures of Bucky and Sam and Natasha. His throat narrows, and he can't imagine them all being torn apart and, yet, that is reality. And he is _struck_. Steve is overwhelmed. Peggy is gone. Howard is gone. Bucky? Oh, God, Steve can't _imagine_. And now Natasha? Will she truly turn her back on him? Have they really differed so aggressively on who is right?

Steve pulls back. He bows his head, wipes his face with his hands, and remains still.

Really, all he is is that same, small boy in Brooklyn. A heart too big for his body. A fool who believes too much in the goodness of people.

Natasha watches him. Her eyes are soft, and understanding.

She, too, knows what it is like to be torn apart.

'You haven't lost me.'

Steve opens his eyes, looks at her, amazed. Then he smiles. A tragic smile which corrodes his insides; a smile which makes Natasha want to drop her blades, and just _stop_. This fight, this war, all of it––how much more can these ridden soldiers take?

He reaches out. Just to touch her. Steve's touch is surprisingly gentle, surprisingly warm, and he caresses her cheek. Once. A silent, yet affectionate gesture. Natasha looks up at him, allows his hand to fall.

'You'll never lose me, Nat. I swear.'

Maybe that is a flaw Steve will always possess: to never break a promise. A promise that he will love Peggy for the rest of eternity, that he will save Bucky and love him all the same, that he will never, _ever_ , betray Natasha, no matter what she does to him. Maybe Captain America is too loyal, which makes him damaged.

But his undying loyalty is all he has left.


End file.
